


Three, Two, One

by Arsenic



Category: Jessica Jones (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Holidays
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 19:29:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9007306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arsenic/pseuds/Arsenic
Summary: Most holidays are off limits, but Trish is claiming this one.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [moirariordan (jaegermighty)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaegermighty/gifts).



> Hey Moirariordan, I just wanted to say thanks for your prompts which led me to this thought. It was a fun little story to write, and I know it's not much and not specifically shippy, but I hope you enjoy.

"No," Jess says. Trish ignores her because it's Trish's job to ignore her when she's being obstinate. She just grabs Jess's coat from where it's tossed over the desk and bullies her into it. And Jess, who could twist away, could push Trish, could _break_ Trish, lets her. She grumbles underneath her breath, but she lets her.

She follows Trish out to the car as well and says, "Fine, but you're supplying the booze."

Trish smiles. "I've got it covered."

*

For a long time after they escaped the clutches of Trish's mom, neither of them celebrated the holidays. Well, Trish still held on to buying candy for the kids in her building on Halloween, and Jess could always be counted on to get trashed on St. Pat's and Cinco de Mayo, but anything that had a family connotation was off limits.

Even had holidays in the Walker house not been an epic production in bullshit, Trish can remember all too clearly that first Thanksgiving with Jess, when she'd taken one bite of turkey and spent the rest of the night in the bathroom, dry heaving and crying. The only thing she'd said the entire time was, "Thanksgiving was my brother's favorite holiday," and Trish had left it at that.

So, yeah, holidays were territory that remained safely uncharted and ignored in the Jones-Walker partnership. It's never bothered Trish, for whom most holidays are reminiscent of hawking some product or another, or desperately trying to get people interested in a cause that most will never pay attention to.

But she's almost loss Jess several times over in the past few years, and the fact that she hasn't, well. It deserves celebration. Not Thanksgiving, obviously, and Trish really, really couldn't stand the memories that tend to accompany Christmas. But New Year's isn't so bad.

New Year's might have annoyed Jess with its consistency and the world's insistence on trying (and failing) to do better in the next 365 days, but it was largely trauma free for both of them, and like it or not, it did represent having made it through another year, the possibility of managing another. 

As such, when Jess says, "No," to her, "We're going back to my place and having New Year's together," Trish just doubles down. Jess may be physically stronger, but when it comes to sheer willpower, Trish has always been able to go the distance.

*

Trish doesn't turn on the TV. If she wanted to be in Times Square, she could. She's got the strings and the money for a hotel above the action, where they could watch, warm and apart from the crowd. That isn't what this is about.

Instead, she offers Jess a choice between Boggle and Scattegories and just stands her ground when Jess gives her a "bitch, please," expression. It takes twelve seconds for Jess to collapse on the couch and say, "Fine, Scattegories."

Trish sticks the pizzas that she's spent the day making in the oven. Thick crust with pineapple, jalapeno, red onion, and ham for Jess, whole wheat with mushroom and artichokes for herself. She'd used making the crusts as a way to shake out her nerves. Sure, she's set on this course of action. That doesn't mean she can make Jess enjoy it. All she's got is hope. Granted, it's served her pretty well with Jess all these years.

Trish parks a six pack of craft beers that she put together at the nearest liquor store next to Jess, who looks at it with the eagerness of a chocaholic behind a Godiva counter, but says, "You know you could've given me PBR, right?"

Trish says, "You deserve better," and starts laying out the game.

*

After Scattegories comes Ticket to Ride and then Jenga, which Jess is, always has been, and always will be, incredibly terrible at. By then they've demolished the pizzas, Jess is on her fifth beer, Trish is mostly through her a bottle of Pinot Grigiot, and Trish says, "C'mon, let's make sugar cookies before I'm too sloshed to work my own oven."

She gives Jess the roller pin and the dough Trish had mixed and stuck in the fridge earlier in the day, because, c'mon, what good is super strength if you're not going to take advantage of it now and then? Meanwhile, she mixes batches of buttercream frosting: green for Jess, blue for herself. 

Predictably, they both have more frosting on themselves than the cookies when all is said and done.

*

They watch Batteries Not Included, because they both love it unironically, and fall asleep twined together in Trish's bed like they have since they were in their teens. Just as they're dropping off, Jess mumbles, "Trish?"

"Mm?"

"Thanks."

Trish wants to say, "this year's gonna be better," wants to say, "we should do this even when there's no stupid calendar excuse." Instead she skritches at Jess's scalp and says, "Sleep tight. Don't let the bed bugs bite."

Jess snorts. "You're a dork."

Trish closes her eyes and smiles. "Takes one to know one."


End file.
